My dad was a boll weevil and my grandpa was too.
We travelled the Southern states through.
To Arkansas and Texas we did roam,
forever looking for a home.
I'm still searching for a place to dwell,
and polyester is a living hell.
7/14/2025
Oh, how could this have ever happened here?
A free naton with baseball, movies and beer?
Those days when other nations cry against the USA…….DIE?
I think on tha, when we turned far left… America’s very soul died.
Those who so loathe and hate our free nation.
Created conspiracy theories,like…boll weevils.
They would do anything to destroy this nation and make America evil?
None of us realizing, how this would divide all of us.
A necrotic snake filled some, like decaying green pus.
And the proof is in the yowling streets of PA is heard .
Of misled shouts of hate, like some insane, hysterical, mysteriuos birds.
Many people died but many unaware, people could care less!
They much prefer riotinh and lies and walk in a state of mental undress.
Our streets full of both USA and Israeli shrill haters.
In masks and flags,green flafs~ such insane, victim baiters.
That “religious” mantra shouted aboard the 9/11 plaines,
Rings in my tender ears, like an exploding, crashing train.
In my left armpit a big boll
That made me with anger boil…
Then, nurse began to water boil.
“Please, don’t touch it now: let it boil…”
“But not like breakfast tea I boil!”
I’d prayed fluid would spill on the soil
And had begun to like snakes coil
But her next move, I on that soil,
With the planned help of a sir Doyle
Who made steadying me his toil…
Several attempts to escape foil…
Treating a boil could a day spoil;
Two friends in arguments embroil.
super boll
boll weevil twin brothers: one was great, one the lesser of two weevils
you killed my father, prepare to die
three-legged dog in a saloon: "looking for the man who shot my paw"
a news headline i'd like to see
buddhist avoids novocain wants to transcend dental medication
somewhere in the middle
she once told me i was average i said she was just being mean
that would be a real night-mare
he tries to not talk like a horse doesn't want to be a neigh sayer
what's a particle like you doing in a place like this?
neutron asks "how much for a beer?" the bartender says, "for you, no charge"
eleventh one's the charm?
i entered ten pun contests hoping one would win
no pun in ten did
Happy New Year to all... may your 2023 be filled with smiles
The trees know very well
And so do the limbs.
Nature tells the limbs
To release the leaves because
Their provisions of shadows
And shades have now ended.
The wind picks up and scatters
The leaves as they quietly fall.
Fields of grains and nuts abound;
Opened cotton buds astound;
Boll Weevils are not around.
Fall is the harvest season when
Painted leaves begin to descend.
High-tech landscaping all around,
But not for the raking of leaves.
For 16 years and more,
This exercise of hard labor prevailed.
Most chores are less adored,
But raking leaves were never adored.
Once upon a time, there were four trees;
Then there were two; And then there was one.
I gladly say, now there is none.
The trees and leaves, I miss; honest I do;
I miss their quiet descent from smog-filled skies;
I miss the protection from solar rays provided to me.
I miss their treasured colors, their artistry;
But I do not for one New York second, miss
Racking the leaves of mulberry trees.
101722PSCtest, Painting prompted Poetry Contest
Lisa YY. Chosen picture:#2. 2P
Well you did that
No I didn’t you did
Nope it wasn’t me, it’s always you that is.
Boll#cks, it’s always you
You said it, you called her that and now I’ve got it to deal with!
Yeah… cos you said it not me!
Shut up
You shut up
I said you shut up or I’ll…
…
Flowers!
What?
Sunflowers.
Sunflowers?
Facing the sun
Ok… ok I can see that.
A field of them all facing the sun under blue sky… with bees.
Yeah, yeah that’s better I can see that now.
No you can’t you got my eyes closed
I’m looking at them in here, I can hear the bees buzzing.
Yeah, I can hear the bees.
Ok, ok then.
Ok.
Nobody here is God. However, we are to do good, not evil.
We save lives of animals, even the boll weevil!
Oh, how we weep over dead elephants!
But to save a baby from death, we say, I can’t !
Putin is a killer, what about you?
Afraid to be pro-life, what might others think of you?
One must fit in and say not a word?
Because the screams of a newborn will not be heard?
Murder is paid for in the USA.
Saddest of all, it need not be this way.
Hitler’s ideas are from Margaret Sanger.
Millions of Jews and now babies dead, from fear or anger.
And we think we are so innocent?
Watching from poetry texts?
Who are we, and what have we become?
When the value of an innocent human life we shun?
Catholics at Mass, on Mother’s Day, will be attacked.?
While free speech, is now in a DHS sack!
Americans who love God, have courage and speak up!
Stop fearing no popularity from the poetry cup.
God help us to be totally courageous!
Not supporting human life is so disingenuous.
5/6/2022
I see dark light in the sun
I will kick you in the boll#cks if you say ‘hey hun’
I don’t know, so don’t fu#king ask!
My body seems to be in several parts
Emotionally I’m an exploding star
Don’t you dare tell me how you are
I feel mad, I feel insane!
Don’t push me or I will maim!
I can’t feel calm I can’t feel still!
This is more, so much more than being ill!!
You’re a man, you’ll never understand!
My body’s changing and it’s affecting my mind.
This is not like you say a pause-from-men!
Your a man, if this happened to you… there’d be a vaccine, just like the flu!
I have held my last pot of hot soup
I've come to the end of my threads
Befraggled and muffed
Bedraggled and fruffed
A raddled cloth corpse that's dead
Frayed so soft and shabby
As the cotton boll that bore me
Worn to a frazzle
I have lost all my dazzle
Faded and haggard and tatty
So tattered in my casing
My splayed stuffing is facing
The dog who has chewed
What was left!
May 11, 2020
The Potholder Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
It was good while it lasted
After the fire ultraviolet
It was good while it lasted
The grass Is Always Greener
Terrestrial arena
Boll of cotton
Hope miss- mistrusting
It was good while it lasted
Watermelon in the lily of the valley
Ever so sadly Melancholy Humanity
3/28/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Time of year to be merry and jolly
mistletoe and holly
Holy submissions
we believe are boll....
crackers we pull
and jokes oh so dreadful
lying to children
a month of bull
presents we give
receipts we seek
eating so much we fall a sleep
and on Christmas Day evening
families walk the streets
because Christmas lunch emissions can really reek
The mayfly hated the caddis fly.
Although she was not quite sure why
All she knew was that she was supposed to hate caddis flies,
and so she hated him, with all his sneaking and his lies.
Despised him with all of her might.
Hated him morning, noon and night.
The handsome Caddis Fly was rather taken with the Mayfly.
Had no knowledge of her hatred, and she had caught his eye.
He baked her a fresh-water cobbler, and took it right over.
Luckily, her axe was dull from cutting today’s pink clover.
She softened a bit, when she saw Caddis Fly was not evil.
Was not sure why she had hated him as much as a Boll weevil.
She and he started dating, and they decided to give each other a fresh start.
Caddis Fly had truthfully stolen Mayfly’s hardening nonsensical heart.
Moral of this tale: How can you hate who you do not know?
Second Moral: Mayflies are Caddis Flies, and Caddis Flies are Mayflies.
boll weevil, be evil
gotten, wotton
wrought in, brough in
rotten, cotton
5/21/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Copyright © 2018
The Ballad of Stinking Mick
Now Mick hung close to a Butt verbose,
And the cheese it ran like treacle,
Some said it was on the bloody nose,
That he lived, was thought unbelievable,
For he was a hairy Wombat Louse,
Hitchhiking on a vehicle,
He tried sucking up to a Mouse,
got dislodged by a Gay Boll Weevil,
There came a blast, hot and sticky cast,
Aroma, most unpleasant,
With bowel movement, he was passed,
Hot an steamy, flavoured, masked?
Mick thought it effervescent,
He’d spring and slide upon the tide,
His gumboots trickled full, (Kiwi slippers)
On a passing Rat he snagged a ride,
High speed, for a Wombat Louse,
I aint being snide, no bloody Bull,
On a Tom-Tit sure he’d been before,
The Wren had flown him high,
Caught by a Cat, he did attack,
with some ten thousands more,
Puddy left with an open jaw,
Thought and pondered bloody sure,
Perplexed with thoughts of why?
The food was flapping high,
The itch stuck in his craw?
Poor puddy bloody paw,
Was reduced to sigh
Should I this underscore,
apply?
This part I will deny,
No lice no bloody moer….( new aussie slang)
Don Johnson
Fallowed mind on barren ground toils
Winter's cold streams radiant beams foil
No incubating current cuts through the dense soil
Muses' bright glint the dark, thick clouds roil
Blipping sparks can't light my sensory console
A dormant seed sprouts on a rocky knoll
Promising strands on frozen surface stroll
Chilling winds over shallow-rooted thoughts troll
Vapid ideas from stagnant un-imaginative threads loll
Without depth, the promising figments spoil
In due course, Spring's thawing tides do roll
On horizon's mount, azure panels scroll
The brighter patches degenerated conduits parole
Fecund spores with soaring visions cajole
Wispy tufts of dander blow into cranial hole
Into thawing seams, germinating inspiration bowls
Enervating muse, implanted seeds into interstices dole
Granules of wisdom brim from gilded boll
Leaving pod, enthralling, pearly grains silt the soul
The congealed fabric spins around each, sensory pole
Ginned fibers into imagination's colorful tapestry burrow
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